


Back to Life

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Ficlet, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post War, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-10
Updated: 2010-08-10
Packaged: 2018-10-27 12:05:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Remus almost didn't make it.





	Back to Life

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for torino10154 and lyras, who asked for Neville/Remus and the prompt "resurrection".

For a moment Neville thought it was his imagination. Rubbing his tired eyes, he finished laying out Lisa Turpin’s body with the others and straightened, stretching equally tired and sore back muscles.

Then he saw it again – the faint rise and fall of Professor Lupin’s chest. It rose again as Neville watched, and he leapt to his feet, aching muscles temporarily forgotten.

“We need a Healer over here!” he shouted, waving his arms. “We’ve got a live one!”

One of the Healers broke stride and hurried over, lime green robes flapping around her ankles. Neville knelt beside his former professor, holding one cold hand in his and watching anxiously as the Healer ran her wand down Lupin’s body, murmuring diagnostic spells under her breath. A final spell levitated Lupin’s body while she flagged down more Healers.

“Is he going to be all right?” Neville asked, still clinging to Lupin’s hand. “Please tell me he’s going to be okay.”

“It’s too soon to say,” the Healer replied, her tone sympathetic. “He was hit with one of the nastiest spells I’ve had the misfortune to diagnose, but if you hadn’t noticed him breathing he definitely would have truly been among the dead in another hour. He has a chance now, thanks to you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a patient to save.”

Neville reluctantly released Professor Lupin’s hand, watching as the Healer was joined by two others and his limp body was spirited away. Exhaling slowly, he turned around and resumed searching for more casualties.

~*~

Two days passed before Neville was able to make the journey to St Mungo’s. He knew Gran had already been by to tell his parents that both Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange were dead, but he wanted to talk to them as well, even if they didn’t respond. They knew all his secrets, and kept them very well.

He didn’t stay long. Mum and Dad had both been upset by the cuts and bruises marring his face, fretting over his singed hairline and his injured palm, scorched when he’d pulled Gryffindor’s sword from the burning Sorting Hat. They’d patted him with nervous hands, making distressed sounds even though he promised them he was fine, that he would get better. It hurt that they were so concerned for his well-being, even if they didn’t know _why_.

Mum had plied him with extra sweets wrappers when he left, making a small bulge in his pocket when he stuffed them inside. Nodding to the mediwitch on duty, he made his way to the opposite side of the floor, to the wing holding those spell-damaged patients expected to make a full recovery.

Professor Lupin’s eyes were closed when Neville sat down beside his bed. They opened slowly, gaze dull while he focused on his visitor with a small frown. “You look familiar,” he said, his voice thin, weak and scratchy. “Wait...Longbottom, right? You’re in Harry’s year. Your boggart was Professor Snape, if I recall correctly.”

“Yes, sir. The best Defence Against the Dark Arts professor I ever had. Professor Snape isn’t my boggart any more, though.” It had been Bellatrix since the end of Neville’s fifth year, but he figured if he ever encountered another one it would take a new shape. He didn’t want to find out what it might be, but he thought it would be fiery.

“I’m told you saved my life. Somehow, saying thank you seems small recompense.”

“It’s enough.” Neville offered a small smile. “I’m just glad I was there.”

Lupin nodded before breaking into a fit of coughing. Neville quickly conjured a glass, filling it with water from his wand. Moving closer to the bed, he held the rim to Lupin’s lips, one arm curving around his shoulders for support while he sipped gratefully.

“Your spellwork’s improved,” he noted, once he’d drunk his fill. “I imagine circumstances demanded it.”

Neville shrugged. “Professor McGonagall always said I only needed more confidence. I guess I found it somewhere along the way. That, and a lot of practice.”

“That tends to work for most.”

“Yes, sir.”

“None of that, Mr Longbottom...Neville. I haven’t been your professor in many years. It’s Remus, or Mr Lupin if you insist on formality; but none of this ‘sir’ nonsense.” His eyes drifted closed again.

“I’m sorry, I should have realised you were tiring,” Neville apologised, starting to stand. Lupin – no, Remus – reached out, fingers touching his wrist.

“No, stay. I haven’t had many visitors.”

Slowly, Neville sank back into his seat. “All right...Remus,” he said, tasting the syllables. Reaching out, he slid his fingers through Lupin’s, giving them a gentle squeeze. “I’ll stay as long as you like, until you’re better.”

Remus opened his eyes again, meeting Neville’s calm, steady gaze, and smiled. “You know, I believe you will,” he replied. “I believe you will.”


End file.
